


bated breath.

by archengels, fakefairy



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, this is gonna be the most slowburn fuckin thing to ever exist i swear to god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-02 17:19:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12730929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archengels/pseuds/archengels, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakefairy/pseuds/fakefairy
Summary: Kuchiki Byakuya and Matsumoto Rangiku were a pair of unlikely friends whose seemingly strange relationship (at least, to the eyes of their comrades) seemed to defy the odds of compatibility. Such a friendship was unorthodox, their intermingling presences a mere juxtaposition to what others thought should have been. Even stranger still was the growing fondness within each of them for one another, a fondness that gradually blossomed into something greater, even if it felt as if a millennia had passed before either one of them were aware of each other's feelings, let alone their own hearts' desires. Together, they will grow, and they will heal.





	bated breath.

**Author's Note:**

> first chapter, as written by fakefairy. spur of the moment fic that came out of a self indulgent desire to produce the content that i wanted to see BECAUSE APPARENTLY there is nothing out there in this byaran void, which is fake but i'm here now so it's fine everything is fine hahaha ANYWAY.
> 
> also! all chapters written in rangiku's point of view are written by fakefairy, and chapters written in byakuya's point of view are written by aloysra.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's a sad time™ for rangiku.

There was hardly ever a moment in which Rangiku felt as if happiness was sliding from her palms and past her fingertips, like a slippery fish that knew that it couldn't be caught, a slithering serpent whose cunning knew no bounds. She was the personification of sunlight—she was warmth and happiness, an endless joy that flooded every soul she was able to reach with her light. In fact, she was _the sun itself,_ especially to _Gin._ Their worlds were deeply intertwined; they shared an intricate bond that could not be shattered, and Rangiku had faith in what they had together, for all that they were, for all that they _would_ be.

They could not exist without one another—where one went, the other followed.

She was an angel in his shadow, her graceful footsteps never far behind his own, the sound of her bubbling laughter trailing after anything stupid or witty that had fallen from his teasing lips. So many nights spent lying in his lithe, wiry, yet comforting, arms, and so many mornings spent peppering lazy kisses all over his face as she insisted on _"5 more minutes"_ of sleep over and over before having to get ready for work, to which he always obliged, and yet it never got old.

He was all that she had ever known. For what it was worth, for all that she was concerned, her life began the day she had met him.

The rarities in which she felt that her happiness had been threatened were the few times he had turned his back to her, with a dark shroud of mystery hanging over Gin's head like a persistent storm cloud that drowned him in a downpour of rain, shattering his eardrums with deafening thunder, rattling his bones and shocking his body with fierce bolts of lightning. Rangiku always wondered where he always wandered off to with such purpose, although he never gave anything more than a sly smile reeking of a degree of ambiguity that only left her with more questions and frustration, his lips curved just slightly, narrowed eyes barely obscured by his silver-lavender fringe.

It was in these moments that she felt a twinge of pain in her heart that was all too soft and _weak_ for him.

Anxiety was a whirlwind gradually gaining strength to become a full-blown tempest that wracked her mind, sending flashes of heat and cold rushing throughout her body with every persistent thought toward his safety. He always turned his back to her with nothing but that _annoying_ smile to remember him by. He had always returned in the end, but never with any answers to the questions that she had hounded him with as parting gifts.

In the end, she always let it go, but she never forgot. Each time he had left, even if just for an hour, stayed with her. He was her entire world, her anchor of stability, her _home._ For all that they had endured together since their earlier years as struggling Rukongai orphans, through everything that they had overcome together since then, he was the closest person to her, the only one who had ever been graced with the rare opportunity to open her heart with their bare hands, to see into the depths of her soul.

She was his, and he was hers.

Their love seemed endless, undefeatable, as if they could overcome anything and conquer the world together, and for years it had.

No matter what, Rangiku never questioned his love for her or his loyalty—she never had a reason to, even in the times in which he put on that impenetrable veil and disappeared beyond her sight, beyond where she could sense his presence. She knew, no matter what, that she was loved—she felt it and she could see it in his eyes. Every little bit of it was genuine. He was her best friend, the only person who she had fully and completely bared her soul to. He had _every_ bit of her trust. She pestered him whenever he left her behind out of concern for _him,_ but she never truly pried; he had to have his reasons, and Rangiku knew that.

Gin had never given her a reason to doubt him— _ever._

There were many Shinigami outside of the Third Division who had little to no faith in him, who felt that there was something unnerving about him that sent chills racing down their spines and shivers coursing vigorously shaking them down to their bones. She had heard it _all,_ all of the countless different stories, from people thinking he was _creepy,_ a _snake_ (which wasn't an awful comparison, but Rangiku's vision was far from sinister nor was it a vision held in poor light), and so much more. He had a strange charisma that made him a popular captain among his own division, and there were others that found him likeable, or at least tolerable.

Despite all of the stories and unsolicited opinions that she had been given an earful of, whether it was directly or from whispers she had heard in passing, her own feelings remained unchanged. _She knew Gin,_ and that was all that mattered to her.

No one knew him the way that she did.

There were often times she felt frustrated by the things people said about him, and she often wondered if Gin felt similarly, but he always seemed so unbothered, but he had always had a talent at hiding things from even _her._ Rangiku always let it slide, just as Gin did, and went on with her life.

Today was different.

Today, her carefully constructed world and all of its walls came crumbling down beneath a rain of fire and destruction, reduced to rubble and plumes of dust that shrouded her view of anything in the distance.

In the midst of the chaos of the Ryoka Invasion, there was conspiracy after conspiracy, and _finally_ the curtains had pulled back to reveal the bright stage light shining upon the stars of the final act, revealing the truths that had been hidden seemingly in plain sight that made every single member of the Gotei 13 question _how_ they had been so blind, but none more than the individuals closest to the heinous traitors.

These men that they had entrusted with their lives, these men that they had looked to as friends and comrades in arms, had betrayed _all_ of Soul Society.

Rangiku felt her heart break instantaneously the moment the shock passed over her, but it quickly metamorphosed into a violent anger as she held Gin with her blade threatening to slit his throat.

She felt the ache in her soul as he looked upon her with an expression tainted with genuine sadness, perhaps even guilt, and she could hear the faintest trace of genuine regret in his voice as he bade her farewell in his apology.

In the moment she was torn, but far too shocked to feel the sting of the heartbreak and anguish. In the moment, she was grateful that he hadn't given her a memento, because if he had, she would have fallen to the ground in her moment of weakness and sorrow, and she wouldn't have been able to move. She would have clung to the ground where he had last stood, the place where she last saw him, as if it were his final resting place.

His office remained untouched within a now captain-less Third Division, and she had become a ghost that haunted its walls, her fingers gingerly tracing along everything inside, her hands holding onto every tangible memory of him, but she could always leave in peace knowing that his soul was still out wandering the world.

The degree of treason he was guilty of, however, ensured that the Soul Society would never be a place that he could ever call home again. Even if he ever returned alive, Rangiku knew fully well that the light of day was a luxury that Gin would not be able to afford. No sunlight, not even a breath of fresh air—traitors did not deserve _anything._

_Traitor._

It pained her, to hear that word branded to his name, to know that it was now seared into his soul for all of eternity.

Gin was the sole person she had loved and trusted more than anyone in the world, and for the first few days she didn't quite know how to react outside of her initial outburst of hurt. Rangiku made her best attempts to appear as normal as possible, but the piercing gazes she felt pressing upon her back like lasers increasing in heat with each passing second made it a more daunting feat than it should have been.

She wanted to move on and forget what happened, but she couldn't—it hurt to think about Gin's betrayal, but it hurt to try to _forget_ him.

She simply couldn't.

A part of her felt guilty for not being able to see through him, for she was the one who knew him inside and out. _At least,_ she thought she was. Rangiku had always known that he had things that he kept from her, but that was normal. Everyone had their respective secrets, things that they didn't want even their closest confidants to be privy to, and she respected that, but she never would have expected that Gin was harboring such traitorous intent in the depths of his heart that she once thought she had been wholly a part of.

It was so well hidden, and she had never suspected a single thing. She never had a reason to suspect him _of_ anything. But now, she couldn't help but to wonder how much of his words of love, or _anything_ that he had said, had been the truth if he was so adept in hiding the true depth of his words from even _her._

Nevertheless... How could anyone look at her with such accusing eyes as if she would have ever known? How _dare_ they?

Everywhere she went, stares followed, pinned upon her back with iron nails. She felt as if she was trapezing naked through a crowd of people who couldn't peel their eyes from her form. She felt like a pacing, caged animal that people were staring at for their own enjoyment at this point. Half of the stares seemed to be accusatory eyes that silently called her a _traitor's lover,_ but the other half were stares of pity.

What was worse, being looked at with such cold eyes dripping in disappointment with the silent accusations of conspiring with a traitor, and being chastised for being in the dark as if she should have known better, or being looked at with such a sickening pity?

Rangiku was someone who was loud and bubbly, someone who was kind and open, someone who always had so much to say in a seemingly endless string of words, and someone who appeared to be an open book for the world to see, but in truth she was careful about what pieces of herself she shared with the world, and she kept her heart guarded and locked behind a dozen gates. She seemed superficial and shallow, easily whining and going on about petty, surface-level feelings, but she never delved into deeper waters. She was content to look and act the part of someone who was one-dimensionally shallow (even if there _was_ a small, genuine part of her that held a trace of superficiality) as long as it meant she kept the most vulnerable parts of her safe.

There was only one person in the entire world that knew the whole truth, that could peer into her soul and its farthest reaches, while everyone else around her only believed that they knew of all she had to share. Of course, she had other close friends who she had opened up to and shared a part of herself with, but no one could compare to Gin.

No one could _ever_ be Gin.

Even despite his betrayal to the Gotei 13, to the Soul Society, to _her,_ she still loved him. No matter what, there would always be a part of her that would love him. Rangiku could never forget what they had. Gin was the biggest part of her life for so long, the perfect piece to her puzzle, and he had been the most important person in her life.

To a degree, he still was, and he still had an ironclad hold over her and her heart.

As long as he was out there, as long as she knew that he was still alive, she would hold onto the hope that one day they would be able to meet, not necessarily under the greatest of circumstances, and perhaps allow her to find closure in a proper farewell.

She would never forget him—she _couldn't_ ever forget him.

How could she? How could she forget him after everything?

In the deepest part of her, she knew that Gin's betrayal was so much more than just a heartbreak and the shattering of years and years of trust and love—it was so much bigger than her, and she knew that. _She knew._ All the same, she could not fight back the hot, stinging, _selfish_ tears, or the hurt, or the _anger_ that coursed through her veins like a ferocious river. It felt _selfish_ of her to only think of herself and her _own_ pain, but this was _Gin._

He had been her heart, her life, her entire _world,_ and she was just supposed to simply accept the fact that he was now gone?

There were so many people, even those who may have considered the former Third Division captain a friend, that—at least, at the surface—seemed to have moved on with their lives. They picked up the debris that littered the ground and were acting as if nothing had changed, as if the Third being captain-less was something that was normal, as if it was something that had _always_ been fact.

Everyone coped differently, or simply had different feelings about the matter altogether. Of those that Rangiku knew for _sure_ had been friendly with Gin, there were many who seemed . . . put together. There were others who had been indifferent toward him and felt nothing but a betrayal toward what they all stood and fought for, but there were also others who had never been shy about their disdain that were now nothing but flaming pyres of fury.

Days had passed since that day, the day that had changed her life forever, and her emotions were still a muddled mess that fluctuated endlessly. She never knew if she was more enraged, or if she was more distraught and hurt, but in the end, they were all negative emotions that were born of the same root.

It was no secret that Rangiku had no qualms bearing her feelings to the world. She was expressive and loud and was always the first to complain, but when it came to _deeper_ emotions, she was a master of keeping them hidden.

She was well aware that everyone around her was expecting her to break down at any second, but that was a show better saved for a private audience of _one._ She hated it, the way people treated her as something fragile and broken. While something inside of her _did_ break, Rangiku's life couldn't come to a halt. The world would not wait for her, and she, too, was expected to move on.

For the first few days after the initial shock and waves of grief had passed, she had been diligent with her work. It was the only way she knew how to distract herself, and there was a bitter irony to it. For as much as she complained and procrastinated all the time, it took her lover's betrayal to put her to work without a single word falling from her lips. While she worked, she remained focused; her mind had little to no time to wander and rest upon thoughts of _him._

It wasn't out of an attempt to erase the memory of him out of her mind; even if she _wanted_ to, she wouldn't have been capable of doing so. She was simply trying to make her life as normal as possible, but there was always an empty space beside her now, a void where a familiar warmth belonged to and needed to be.

She saved the little moments that she had to herself (at least, at first) to devote them to _him._ There were some moments that had been spent shedding the few silent tears that were easily wiped away and forgotten, and other moments that had led to empty bottles of sake still lingering inside of her desk's drawers. Rangiku managed to remain in control of herself and her emotions while in her office space where anyone else could barge in or overhear her as they passed by in the hallway. It was only in the safety of her own quarters that she allowed herself to _truly_ cry, to _truly_ unravel and wallow in her anger, in her sadness, and in her agonizing heartache.

After all of these years, he was just _gone._

It took time to adjust, and perhaps she never truly would return to the place she once stood, but it gradually became easier to breathe again, as if a weight had been moved from her chest.

There were some days where she just couldn't help herself from taking note of the empty space beside her and how silent her days were, and how she now slept alone every night. She didn't always spend the night wrapped in Gin's warm embrace, but now those times were only fading moments of the past left behind to cherish as memories.

Being without him seemed impossible, and at first it had been. Rangiku never knew a world without him in it, and it was almost as if she had never existed before meeting him. He had been her beginning, but he was not her ending.

After a month, all of the eyes stopped trailing after her and stopped watching her every movement with the piercing gazes of a hundred hawks watching their prey.

After a month, she found that she was beginning to smile more openly, more _genuinely._

After a month, she found that Gin was becoming an afterthought in the back of her mind. He didn't plague her the way he used to, but she still missed him—she always would.

She had come to accept the reality of the world for what it was now, and she was settling.

In time, Rangiku would forgive Gin, and she would heal.


End file.
